


Gravity

by septicat



Category: Sean McLoughlin - Fandom, jacksepticeye, mark fischbach - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4525347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septicat/pseuds/septicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your reign."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> This is written as a note from Jack's POV. It's a little hard to tell, and I'd hate for ya'll to be confused.   
> Based on the song Gravity by Sara Bareilles

It’s four in the morning on a Sunday. You’re asleep in the next room, naked, and I hope more than anything that you’re happy.

 

This is incredibly hard for me to write. I have my reasons, of course, and I’ll eventually get to those. Right now, though, I need to explain a few other things.

 

I need to tell you that I’m tired. I’m not as fine as I made myself out to be when I saw you three weeks after our break up, hanging out at that bar that I could never get you to go to. I missed hanging out with both of you, sure, but not as much as I missed you.

 

I’m not nearly as okay as I said I was when I ran into you at the grocery store two weeks after that. You asked me how I was, and I told you I was great. That, of course, was a lie, but what could I say?

 

_“Yeah, Mark, this is maybe the third time I’ve left my apartment in almost a month and a half, and I feel like my heart is being split in two every time I so much as hear your name.”_

 

I was definitely nowhere near as excited as I implied when you called me a week after that. Your voice sounded like a strange mix of hopefulness and sadness, but you had called to see if I wanted to get together and talk.

 

My heart was racing. I was seventeen emotions wrapped into one and not a single one of them made any sense to me at all. Why was I excited? Why was I nervous? Why was I sad, angry, hopeful, and relived all at the same fucking time? I wasn’t sure which emotion to listen to first, and without really thinking it through, I agreed. Saturday night, your place, 8:30.

 

I’m still not even sure why I agreed right then. I had done nothing but sulk and felt sorry for myself since you left me. You left me because you couldn’t handle the stress I put on you. You couldn’t handle the commitment of staying with me. You, ultimately, couldn’t handle _me_ , and nothing hurt worse than hearing you tell me that _“I was simply too much emotion in one human being_ ” and that _you “have too much going on with yourself to help me.”_

 

I never asked for your help, Mark. I never, once, begged or requested you helped me. All I really needed was for you to be there. I was clung to you like a child to a new puppy. You were the only thing that was helping me through that time in my life. I had so many things happening both in my head and within my life that you knew about, and you didn’t _care._ You had more important things to do.

 

Whatever, I’m not here to ramble about the reasons you left. You said them yourself; you know better than anyone else why you did what you did.

 

I want you to understand what that did to me.

 

You managed, even after cutting all contact, to be the focal point of my life. Nothing I did was the same because you weren’t there. What was the point of getting out of bed if all I had to look forward to was an empty day full of empty bottles and empty feelings?

 

You kept me locked within my head without even being around.

 

Three days before our first post-breakup encounter, I finally started getting into the idea of you being gone. My strength was fragile, but it was there. It was _something._

 

My brother was more than eager to get me out again.

 

_“Come on, Jack, we’ll just go out to your favorite bar. It’ll be a good time, just us.”_

 

I agreed because what harm could it do? I would get quality time with my brother and I knew you wouldn’t be there because after months and months of begging you to go to that specific bar with me, you never once went. What were the chances of seeing you there?

 

Yet, there you were, as soon as we walked in. I know you saw me. The eye contact was so obvious and there was no way to hide it. I didn’t say anything while my brother and I drank a beer together, but I urged him to leave, faking some assignments for college I had yet to get to. My studies were less of a weight on my shoulders than you were.

I fell right back down again.

 

I was stuck in the cycle again. It didn’t take me nearly as long to get back on my feet, and when I did, I decided to get some groceries because I was running out of food. (It was less running out as it was not eating what I had before it all spoiled.)

 

I was almost done, and I was feeling great. In my hurry to find a lane with a short line, I ran into another trolley and immediately started apologizing.

 

I didn’t think I’d be telling you sorry again, for any reason.

 

You asked me how I was.

 

I told you I was great. I faked the best smile I could. I’m still not sure if you bought it or not.

 

The conversation was short and definitely not sweet. I could feel the hole being ripped through me again as you smiled that smile I used to wake up to every morning and said goodbye and that _“it was good to see you again.”_

 

I cried the entire way home.

 

Then, before I could even manage to muster any sort of courage to do anything again, I got your phone call.

 

I had already deleted your phone number. I could lie and say I didn’t recognize it when you first called, but I couldn’t forget the 10 digits I dialed for years when they flashed across my screen. I debated for a few seconds whether to pick up or not. After the fourth ring, I couldn’t handle the sound anymore and pressed the talk button.

 

I mustered a faint hello.

 

I felt my chest fall as soon as you repeated me.

 

You told me that you’d been thinking about me a lot, and that you’d really like for me to come over so we could talk.

Now you wanted to talk?

 

You never wanted to talk when I was crying in the bathroom alone after you got home from work. You never asked how I was when I would wake up at three in the afternoon because I couldn’t fall asleep until almost seven in the morning. One run in at the grocery store was all it took to finally make you decide I was worth your time?

 

I ended up agreeing, after what felt like a long, heated disagreement with myself.

 

Which brings us to now.

 

I got your place at 8:30 last night. I actually got there about 8:25—I stood outside of your door for nearly 5 minutes trying to convince myself that this was going to be good for us.

 

I knocked and you came running to the door. You said hello. It was the most excited I had seen you in forever. I’m not sure what happened to make you that excited to see me.

 

You let me in and we sat at the table with the dinner you had made while we talked.

 

I was uncomfortable, but I felt at home. Which, I suppose, is what it was like when I was living there, with you. I guess not much had changed.

 

You asked me how I really was, and I made up a lot of things just so you didn’t have to understand how I was really feeling. You didn’t care then, I didn’t expect you to care now.

 

I had my fragile strength again. It was mostly just me covering up what I was really thinking and feeling, but it was what I was best at by this point in my life. It was exhausting, but it’s all I knew how to do.

 

By 10, our plates were clean and you wanted to play some games or something for a while. I wasn’t sure why I agreed to that either. I think it was mostly the side of me that was hoping you had changed your mind. I wanted to.

God, I wanted nothing more than to be beside you again. I was high on the smell of your cologne from across the couch and the idea that this could work again.

 

We made it through a few levels and we laughed and joked like nothing was wrong. You turned and looked at me with those dark brown eyes and I could feel myself falling apart again. You were pulling me in and you weren’t even trying.

 

Your hand grazed the side of my knee and I acted like I didn’t notice.

 

Then it was silent for awhile. Too long, actually.

 

You reached forward and took my hands and the spark that I had been hoping to feel made its way through my arms and into my heart. You had me then, but then you kept the eye contact and said the two words I had been waiting to hear for months.

 

**“I’m sorry.”**

 

I didn’t cry. I didn’t move. I didn’t know what to do, in all honesty.

 

It tore me to pieces and at the same time, built up everything that had been falling apart for weeks.

 

You moved your hand to my cheek and pulled me closer.

 

You kissed me and those thousands of emotions I had felt before came back at a much greater force.

 

You pulled your lips from mine and pressed your forehead against mine. I couldn’t see your face. I couldn’t open my eyes.

 

 _“I love you.”_ You said.

 

I melted and I was yours again. It’s all it took. All that strength I had built up for myself was suddenly gone and I wasn’t sure where it went.

 

You kissed me again.

 

Everything happened so fast.

 

Now, I’m here. Four o’clock, Sunday morning.

 

I’m in all of my clothes from last night except for my shoes and you’re in the same state as I left you 30 minutes ago when I started writing this on your couch.

 

So, my reason for writing this is simple.

 

I’m standing my ground.

 

I’m exhausted.

 

I cannot, and will not keep doing this.

 

I can be a complete person without you in my life.

 

You left me once before, and I will be _damned_ if I give you the opportunity to do it again.

 

I’m standing up like I should have been from the beginning.

 

I pray you never have to feel what I have felt in the last few months.

 

I love you.

 

I’m sorry.


End file.
